The Life of a Newborn (1)

I can remember my life before anything changed. How I use to just exist. Some would say I was even a bit on the wrong side of life, headed down a trail for destruction. I might agree, seeing as I had been in and out of jail more times than I was years of age. Most of it was petty stuff, breaking and entering , damaging public property, you know the easy stuff. Then it happened, the act which would push me over the edge, the act which there was no coming back from. I committed murder.
It all started out rather innocently, me and a couple of friends looting houses, looking for people’s Christmas presents, cash, jewelry. Things we could easily sell at the black market. I was first to enter, I slid the window open, and crawled through. That should have been my first clue something was off. Then I began walking across the wooden floor. Just my luck, a toy had been left out by their kid. As I kicked the toy car, I could hear the loud clanking it made, as it rolled across the floor. That was it, a large man appeared at the door. I didn’t waste time on questions. I began firing my gun. Three rounds later and the man laid in his own blood, dead. I searched his pockets and stole the two hundred dollars he had in cash. I then took his rings and watch and fled. I was all over that murder scene, so when the crime scene investigators arrived, well they were waiting for me in my normal hang out.
“Paul, what are you doing? You have never killed before.”
“And I still haven’t.” I lied.
“ Your DNR was all over that crime scene.”
“Oh I admit I was there, and I even robbed him, but as for killing him, no, that was someone else.”
I though the detective had given up on trying to get me on the murder. I was wrong…
“Well Paul , I guess then I should take you into custody. One last drink and you will go peacefully for the burglary right?”
I was on cloud nine. A little slap on the wrist, and I would be back on the streets by summer. “You buying?”
“Of course. “
“Hey John, two shots of your fireball.”
“Sure thing detective.”
I didn’t see what happened behind the bar, but when I picked up the shot and tossed it down, the detective flipped Oma strange light . Suddenly my hand was glowing. “And that my friend Paul is gunshot residue. I have you dead to rights. You will get the lethal injection for this.”
It was true, I was booked and held for less than two weeks. The jury came back finding me guilty. The day came for my execution a couple of weeks later. I wasn’t worried. Life had been nothing for me. Just surviving the world. Now I got an easy peaceful way out. I waved the choice of confessing to God and everyone else, I mean I didn’t even believe in the almighty. How could a kid like me. I closed my eyes, and waited for the I.V. To begin. It took no more than fifteen minutes, and the doctor was injecting the cocktail into my veins.
“ This is better than being high,” I told him. He never made one sound. Slowly I drifted off to sleep, into my eternal slumber. Or so I thought.
After the whole ordeal was finished, and the coroner pronounced me dead, I was put in a pine box and immediately taken to the prison cemetery. I don’t recall any of this, because after all I was asleep. Or rather dead, but the man who dug me up told me.
I woke trapped in a dark cold spot. I began trying my hardest to get out. I punched the wood repeatly , till suddenly it gave way and cracked. Something was wrong. My throat burned as if a match had been thrown in it. I wandered am I in hell?
I finished opening the box, and crawled out onto the cold wet dirt. “Surely this isn’t hell, for if it were it would be hot.” I managed some how to get myself to my feet. I wandered around still feeling half way high from the drugs they had put in me. Something must have gone wrong, I didn’t die. I stumble into a yard with a birdbath. I am so thirsty, I don’t care that it’s for animals, I begin to drink. “I truly am in hell!” No matter how much of the water I consumed, the thirst never went away.

copyright 2015 MLSteele

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